Twleve Stories Low
by x-Beyond-x-Reproach-x
Summary: Harry Potter is a broken man and all he knows is that fate can be cruel. N/S, N/C, O/S.


Disclaimer: I do not, never have nor ever will have any rights to the Harry Potter series.

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**12 Stories Low **

Harry Potter brings the bottle of Firewhiskey back to his lips and takes a long drink from the half empty container, the amber liquid burns his throat and momentarily washes away the heartache, this is his last resort, his last place of freedom from the pain that had been plaguing him for the past three months.

As soon as the bottle is out of his hands the memories start to come flooding back, her face as white and pale as the clean unslept in sheets of his hotel bed.

He plucks a cigarette from the pack on the table and lights it, watching the flames blacken the paper as the previous months have blackened his heart.

After a long drag he watches the smoke as it rises up and around the now defunct smoke alarm before making it's way out of the open window, out to pollute the world as he himself has done.

Flashes of red and green colliding in mid air, masonry crashing from the walls and splitting the marble tiles.

Another long drink from the bottle and dizziness is his reward, slamming the bottle down he spits on the floor disgusted with his weakness, the noise induces loud banging from the neighbouring room, he spits again.

Her wide, shocked eyes, the sound of her body hitting the floor.

'Not your fault Harry' the rational part of his brain had returned 'Could have been anyone' apparently that part of his mind had not yet been drunk into oblivion, a problem easily solved.

After a deep breath Harry drains the last quarter of whiskey from the bottle before throwing it across the room.

More banging.

The mourners around the grave, some comforting the family others gathered around him offering condolences he did not deserve.

The cigarette has half smoked itself, he lets the ash fall where it will before taking another drag.

Molly Weasley standing before him, holding his had in both of hers, tears streaming down her cheeks.

'I don't blame you, Harry' her words echo in his head each syllable etched into his mind.

Harry tips jumps up from his seat, overturning the table and launching his chair through the balcony window.

There is no banging this time, security will be on their way soon enough.

He lets the cigarette fall from his fingers, the carpet takes flame almost immediately, and the smoke is already rising.

Only a few paces and his out through the broken window and staring out over muggle London, cleaners are still at work in most of the buildings, lights flick on and off as they make their rounds.

Harry leans against the balcony railing and stares down, there are floors and floors of absolute nothingness below him, nothing between him and that which he craves.

The fire is raging behind him, smoke billows out in the only way it can and is dispersed into the already polluted nights air.

The only way up is down.

A small smile traces across Harry's face like a snipers bullet, he finally has control.

The door to his room bursts open, a familiar voice calls out to him, the usually low calm tones are now harsh and scared.

"Harry, what are you doing?!" the words are fast and desperate.

With a sigh Harry Potter slowly and laboriously lifts himself into a sitting position on the railing, he can just about see the figure of Kingsley Shacklebolt standing in the doorway.

"I'm sorry Minister but I must ask you to be so kind as to take this as my resignation from your service." He closes his eyes and everything is dark.

It is said that in the moments before death a persons life is flashed before their eyes, each important memory a frame in their ultimate home movie.

Harry only see's one image, a photograph taken some years before with an old muggle camera, Ginny Weasley laying passed out on a couch in the Weasley home, bottles of wine scattered around her and a drunken smile etched into her face, this is Harry's favourite memory, the proof that no matter what they had seen, what they had done; they where all human and they had all survived.

The day that Harry Potter killed Ginny Weasley was the day that he himself died inside.

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**FROM DEATH THERE IS NO ESCAPE**

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A/n: Well, I hope you enjoyed that, it was written in the space of about an hour, feedback and reviews highly appreciated and welcomed.


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